Goosebumps: Who Are You To Question Art?
by The Nickname
Summary: A world famous artists named Pinky Flamingo becomes a school teacher, and three children soon discover what this teacher has plans for his students. - Rated Kplus for violence. - Reviews are encouraged.
1. Chapter 1: The New Teacher

**Chapter 1**

The Bramston residence lived within the city of Olympia, the bizarrely unknown capital of the equally obscure state of Washington. The Bramstones lived along Jasper Avenue to the northeast, a relatively quiet, if somewhat crowded, neighbourhood laying opposite of the industrial central suburbs of Olympia. The Bramston home was a tastelessly standard home fashioned with a grass garden along with several mundane decorations.

Richard Bramston was married to Tamara Bramston for fifteen years and currently had two children, an older and a younger daughter. Richard sported a career as a key grip in a studio for regular castings of television advertisements for products, several of such products Richard currently owned in his own home. Tamara Bramston lived the uneventful lifestyle as a traditional housewife, remaining at home in order to maintain the lifestyles of her kin as her husband earned his daily profit for his services to the community.

Douglas Bramston was currently thirteen years of age and attended the Reeves Middle School, a relatively remote school with an unusually large attendance of students ranging within two hundred to two hundred and fifty. Ever since his young age, he has aspired to become a world famous artist, capable of practicing and perfecting each and every form of art that had ever been conjured in the history of mankind.

Naturally, because of these intentions, his most concentrated subject in his classes was the art class, along with multiple other classmates with similar, if less outlandishly driven, intentions. He was immediately drawn to these lessons by the supposed guarantee of earning a consistent career and gaining a popular reputation amongst the public, or so he had been told. The only obstacle he could consider that would undermine this 'guarantee' is his mediocre teacher representing the lessons.

Melissa West had been the art teacher for several years, and although Douglas couldn't pinpoint the exact amount of time, it was clearly too long. Her caring attitude towards her class's success in the profession seemed non-existent, and the consistency in her instructions were of an equal nature. Douglas has failed many art assignments simply due to the instructions contrasting with either the nature of the tasks themselves or of the teacher's clear instructional sabotage.

Currently, it was Douglas's third week during his third term of school, and was spending his Tuesday afternoon in his art class before the stroke of three. In this current lesson, he was taught the way of painting still life, in the loosest possible form of the word 'taught'. As usual, the teacher would comment on the incorrect mixing of the paints that Douglas used, ironic was the fact that these specific paints were supplied to him by the art class itself and were mandatory to use.

Finally, the homestretch of ten minutes was taken into account and Mrs. West began reviewing the student's artworks, each student in question placing them on the tables. Ten minutes of unwarranted criticisms and useless explanations passed until Douglas's artwork would be subjected to this fate. By this time, Douglas could not decide whether these criticisms were truly based on the teacher's obvious lack of deductive reasoning and art skills or simply with intent to spite him.

After finally receiving his latest fail for his hindered perseverance in this lesson, the three o'clock bell chimed and announced the end of the agony and suffering that is education. Douglas remained begrudged over his unavoidable failure within his class, and now expected the rest of the Friday to be of an equally mediocre nature. Thankfully, the only consolation for studying these classes was his connection to several students within the class.

Brock Samuels had become his closest friend ever since he had begun attending Reeves middle school, proudly offering him the longest relationship with Douglas. Brock sported a large mop of blonde hair and an absurdly based voice. He was primarily a sports person and aspired to join an American baseball team, but Brock also had an eye for practicing both culinary and artistic activities. Brock had often explained to Douglas that these activities allow him to gain concentration on his actions during sports.

Leonard Park, on the other hand, was often a mere associate and a general convenience to Douglas. Leonard had thick and shimmering black hair that would hide the left half of his face behind his fringe. Leonard was a complete opportunist in Douglas's eyes, often attempting to convince classmates and other students to pay him to perform certain acts, including spying on people and spreading gossip. Besides this, Douglas has noted his clear honesty, considering him to be the archetype for a man of business.

Several other students were among the list of Douglas's companions, though they rarely offered a similar connection or left a similar impact. Eric was often a subject of complications for Douglas because of his short temper, though Douglas rarely approached him for any particular reasons. Douglas considered himself to be a relatively social person, this fact being best presented by how everyone in his class seemed to know him, for better or worse.

* * *

As the Friday afternoon continued beyond the school hours, Douglas basked in the rays of the setting sun as he prepared to leave the school ground and return home. Douglas didn't require being transported home by his parents since his home was only several blocks away from the school itself. He stretched his muscles as the pressed firmly against the bindings of his formal school uniform, before stuffing his hands into his coat's pockets as he began his journey home.

He passed the intersection into his neighbourhood, the boiling sun poisoning the gusting wind with its malice and radiating from the overhead horizon of the concrete pavement. His house finally loomed into view, the blandness of the front lawn's decoration scheme contrasting with the other surrounding homes offering a clear definition. Douglas himself felt a sense of dissatisfaction from the state of his home, yet was relieved by his lack of responsibility for its current condition.

As he passed the picket fence and through the identically styled picket gate, a familiar sound could be heard from ahead. Through the window, Douglas could hear the sound of an unfamiliar voice explaining a decrease in yearly profits for oil, indicating that his parents were watching the news in the living room. Douglas climbed the front porch's staircase and opened the door, a quantity of air-conditioned wind greeting him through the hallway.

Upon entering his abode, Douglas breathed in the fresh air that emanated from the surrounding sanctuary and sighed with content relief. He continued to listen for the source of the voice, the voice itself sounding evermore distant as it became clearer. He carefully creeped his way through the hallway and turned to his left and enter the living room, his suspicions having finally been confirmed. The living room's television was broadcasting the daily Channel 7 news program, the typical anchor-man discussing a recent burglary of a family home within a nearby suburb.

Douglas turned to the couch to find his the rest of his family, sitting together comfortably as they watched the television with a level of intensity. It was peculiar that his eight year old sister would even bother to watch the news, the news here being a series of events that a child should not concern herself with. Douglas considered the time of day and concluded that it must be 4:00 in the afternoon, well after the time of the typical cartoons for her to watch.

However, Douglas was about to greet his family, the anchor-man had altered the subject of discussion to a new topic. "And in other news…" the anchor-man began as he sorted his papers into a neatened collection, before continuing "The world renowned artist Pascal Fandango, otherwise known by his celebrity title Pinky Flamingo, has made a public appearance in the state of Washington, sighted within the capitol Olympia".

In an instant, Douglas's mother and sister were awed by this revelation and gasped in surprise, his mother exclaiming "Pinky Flamingo?! Here in Washington?!" The anchor-man continued "The famed artist is widely recognised in the Guinness Book of Records as the fastest painter in the world, capable of panting flawless replicas of famous artworks within significantly less time than the originals". Douglas's mother covered her mouth in excitement as the anchor-man continues his description.

Douglas, on the other hand, had never even caught a mention of this celebrity and admitted such to his family, despite the excitement his family seemed to express at the mere mention of his name. Douglas shrugged and explained plainly "I've never heard of him. What does he do?", his sister turning to face him with an expression of confusion. Amanda replied "How can you not know this guy?! He is the artist that managed to pant up to 15 portraits within a single hour!"

To Douglas, after hearing of this astounding accomplishment, in spite of how amazing it should seem as an artistic feat, the nature of this artist still seemed questionable. For Douglas, the artist seemed to be some form of stuntman searching for an unsuspecting audience, hoodwinking them through a series of alleged accomplishments without arousing suspicion. However, within moments, Douglas's first impression of the teacher's true nature was cemented in its entirety.

Upon the left hand side of the television screen, an image of the artist was displayed, possibly in order for the news to allow identification of the artist they referred to. The image portrayed an Italian man within his late thirties and early forties, sporting an incredibly sinister expression. His hair silvery grey with a minor comb-over that arose upwards towards the tips. His skin was pallid and appeared almost ghostly, his face expressing a pair of wide eyes and a large, intense smile.

"Holy-" Douglas exclaimed as he stepped back in surprise, "He's not… that's got to be the creepiest face I've ever seen!" Douglas's mother, understandably irritated by the discrediting of her favourite celebrity, stated "Douglas! Don't say rude things like that!" Douglas himself slouched and sighed in resignation, "Sorry… I just wasn't expecting to look like _that_ ". From then, Douglas left the living room to prepare a snack in the kitchen, his attention transfixed on the artist's image until the television was no longer in his sight.

* * *

Douglas stepped through his front door and proceeded to descend the porch's staircase, his mind focused on a single negative aspect of the morning itself. It was currently Monday today, and Douglas naturally could not help but find a sense of dissatisfaction from this fact. He breathed a sigh of disappointment as he pushed his front gate open and stepped out onto the street, the cool breeze gusting against him offering a single consolation as to the nature of the following morning.

After approximately between ten to fifteen minutes of walking to his school, though the repetitive action of walking to school would convince Douglas of a lesser length of time, he finally found himself standing outside of the school gate, As soon as he entered the school grounds, he immediately turned towards the outdoor lunch area in search of the friends, hoping to be able to have a quick conversation with them before their first class starts.

Finally, within their signature lunch table of choice, Douglas spotted Leonard and Brock chatting alongside to other students, though the identity of the latter individuals remained relatively unknown to Douglas. He wandered to a vacant seat of the table and seated himself amongst the rest of the gathering, Brock turning to face him and offering an expression of confusion, Leonard mimicking this act in addition.

"Hey Douglas…" Brock began, his eyebrow raising as he asked "Where were you yesterday?" Douglas shrugged and replied "I dunno… just at home, enjoying the weekend" before he questioned "Why? Did I miss out on something?" Brock nodded enthusiastically and answered "Yeah, dude! We went to the bowling alley yesterday and you weren't there!" Douglas's jaw dropped in realisation and exclaimed "Are you serious?! Why didn't anyone tell me about this?!"

"I thought at least somebody would tell you. Personally, I expected Brock" Leonard explained, clearly attempting to avoid any suspicion of his role in this lack of information. Nevertheless, Douglas believed that uncovering the culprit responsible would be fruitless and decided to change the subject, "So who won at the bowling alley?" he asked curiously. Brock, sporting a smug grin, answered "I did, and it was by a long shot".

"That's rubbish! I came a pretty close second to you, dude!" the student across from the table accused, his finger pointed towards Brock for emphasis. Leonard chuckled mischievously and replied "Sure thing, Carlos. If any living thing on this planet would define a fourth of the highest score to be close, then you're absolutely right". "A fourth?! Brock, that's legendary! You could be in the Guinness book of records for that" Douglas described, Brock dryly chuckled in response.

So what did you actually do for your weekend, Douglas?" Leonard questioned out of curiosity. Douglas merely shrugged before answering "Hardly anything, really. I just spent my time practicing my painting skills". Douglas continued to emphasise his point by adding "But I've also been practicing some poetry. You know… like I'm writing this one about how I would make a better art teacher than my actual art teacher". Brock suddenly whispered "Dude, don't say stuff like that so loudly. She could have heard you, y'know".

"Well, I don't know about that, dude. Something tells me that she couldn't have _possibly_ heard that" Leonard stated with a wry grin. "What? Why?" Douglas asked, to which Leonard answered "From what I hear, Ms. West has hit the road for good". Brock, once he had finally finished gagging on the water from his water bottle after hearing this revelation, shouted "Really!? Gone for good?!" Leonard nodded in confirmation and added "And apparently, some new teacher has just offered to replace her".

"Holy cow…" Douglas exclaimed breathlessly as he slouched in his seat, "I might actually be able to have an art career yet!" Leonard couldn't help but laugh at Douglas's diabolical humour over the topic before adding "Better yet, I hear he's a proper artist too". Douglas punched towards the sky in excitement from this news as he shouted "Yes!" before sighing and adding "Guys, you have no Idea how awesome this is for me. I feel like I reached nirvana!"

"Nirvana on a _rollercoaster_ , from what _I_ can see, bro" Leonard described from Douglas's excitement. Suddenly, amidst this rejoice and satisfaction, Brock asked with genuine curiosity "But Ms. West… why would s _h_ e quit?" Leonard turned and answered "I never said she quit, dude. She apparently just up and left the whole city; her whole house had no furniture, so I guess she just moved somewhere without telling anyone".

As uncomfortable as this conversation had become, Douglas disregarded the details regarding his former instructor and decided to steer the conversation by stating "Well I, for one, am really excited for this new art teacher. But I wonder who he is?" Suddenly, before the newest conversation could commence, the school bell began to ring to mark the beginning of their first lesson. Reluctantly, the trio and their follower left the table and proceeded to their different classes.


	2. Chapter 2: The Newcomer

**Chapter 2**

Along the stroke of 2:00 in the afternoon, following a two-hour long mathematics lesson and a two-hour sports lesson, Douglas and his classmates had finished their first two periods and proceeded to their final class. They each resided in their seats as they awaited their new art teacher with anticipation, until an announcement erupted through the classroom speaker. "Children residing within Classroom B11, please note that your standard educator, Mrs. Merissa East, is to be replaced by a substitute teacher until further notice. Thank you".

As this was said, the door suddenly swung open and slammed against the wall, instantly diverting the children's attention. Though the open door proceeded an unusually tall and lanky man within his late thirties and early forties. He was wearing a fluorescent pink dress coat with matching dress pants and a pair of black shoes, his purple undershirt fitted with a white bowtie along with a pair of black gloves. His hair was a silvery grey, stylised comb-over, his face sporting wide cheekbones and a large and toothy grin.

As the man unnaturally staggered his way to the centre of the room, Douglas immediately recognised his features, and yet remained unable to believe his fortune. The man finally stopped and straitened his posture, before clearing his throat. "Good mornin', class" he introduced himself in a thick and exaggerated speakeasy accent, "Da name's Pasqual Fandango… heheh… but some o' ya might know me by anodder name".

"Pinky Flamingo!"

A pair of synchronised voices had caught the teacher's attention as he focused his gaze upon the pair of classmates, the two culprits turning to face the other curiously. Douglas found the other source of the interruption to be a blonde girl who he had never seen before, allowing Douglas to conclude that she was a new student in his class. "I am such a huge fan of your work, Mr. Flamingo! I love your artworks! They are some of the greatest artworks I've ever seen, especially your portraits!" she rambled in a fit of excitement.

Pinky was no less than amazed by this act of praise, considering the nature of his artworks themselves and their unsuitability for younger ages. Nevertheless, he clapped his hands together in congratulation towards his newly found representative and announced to the class "De young lady's right! I have painted a lotta artwoiks before comin' ere, and I still plan on paintin' my artwoiks while I _am_ workin' ere". The man's factual tone demanded full attention from the class, as if threatening impending consequences upon anyone who would disregard his commands.

This ominous speech was soon concluded and Pinky soon announced "Right, now listen ta dis! De foist lesson is ta practice paintin' a portrait o' ya partner!" He raised a gloved hand towards the class and waved it from left to right, "So everybody pick one partner and take toins paintin' eachodder. If you's too ugly or unpopular ta find a partner, just grab a mirrah and paint yaself!" With that, he turned towards his desk and sat silently, staring towards the class with expectation.

The blonde girl was the first to arise from her desk and she swiftly made her way towards the teacher's desk. As she did this, Pinky soon placed a stack of various canvases upon his desk for simpler access. The sizes and shapes of the canvases were clearly inconsistent, though she didn't acknowledge it in any way. Upon returning to her desk she immediately began sketching out her basis for a face as the rest of the class began receiving their own canvases.

Several minutes later, the peaceful, if somewhat ominous silence was broken by the unmistakable sound of a frustrated sigh. All eyes, especially the teacher's, were focused upon the source, namely a ginger child who seemed to have given up on his artwork. "Argh! Why do I have to paint a stupid painting when I could just draw it?! This sucks!" he ranted openly towards the rest of the class room.

Pinky frowned and furrowed his eyebrows in frustration from this comment, but simply waved it off and simply responded "Sure thing den, kid! Ya can just fail de test if ya want". The ginger kid was astounded by this snide remark from an educator and decided to escalate the matter and shouted "Why should I care? Painting sucks anyway".

Pinky's jaw dropped in surprise from this bold statement, his eyes narrowing to a frightening level. The rest of the classmates, including the ginger, remained silent for a while as the teacher simply stared towards him. An unnerving atmosphere descending upon the class as the teacher finally grew a sinister grin. "What's ya name, kid?" He asked expectantly, the boy becoming too nervous to respond and remaining silent.

"WHAT'S YA NAME, KID?!"

"Eric!" the boy replied in a panic, carefully sitting in his seat in fear. Pinky stepped passed his desk and leaned his head towards Eric with his hands behind his back. "Follow me ta de principal's office. We's… _notifyin'_ ya parents about dis!" Pinky sneered angrily before stepping towards the class room door, carefully ungloving one of his gloves in the process. As the pair left through the classroom hallway, Carlos noticed his gloved hand, wondering about the man's absurdly lengthy fingers.

Before leaving, Pinky announced to the class "De rest of ya, keep paintin' ya portraits! Just finish 'em off and den leave when da bell rings!" and pulled the door shut with a loud _'Slam!'_. Douglas could hardly comprehend the events that had just unfolded before him, primarily the attitude of the new art teacher. Though despite this, the teacher himself definitely had a presence of a professional artist and Douglas was excited for future lessons.

* * *

As soon as the bell rang, the class ungraciously left their desks and bolted for the door, the only remaining students either not having completed their portraits yet or were forced to remain posed for their artists. Douglas was prepared to leave the classroom and join his friends for lunch when he noticed the blonde girl, who had only currently begun painting over her sketch design of herself. Out of curiosity, Douglas approached the girl and observed her incredible attention to detail, prompting him to question her behavioural nature.

"Excuse me?" he greeted politely, the girl only partially paying any heed to his presence by relieving an expectant "Hm?" Douglas asked "Um… What's your name?" as a sickly feeling began to nauseate him, the girl responding simply "Please don't bother me. I'm trying to concentrate". Douglas raised an eyebrow and explained "But class is already over! You took too much time to draw the sketch, you didn't even pai-".

"DO YOU EVER SHUT UP?!"

Douglas stepped away in surprise, completely taken aback by the girl's sudden outburst without even a hint of consideration for her present audience. Feeling a sense of defence required for this situation, Douglas huffed in defiance and retorted "Fine then! You can fail for all I care", the girl failing to even acknowledge his threat. Will his fire doused, Douglas exited into the main hallway in defeat, hoping to be capable of eating his lunch in the remaining time. The remaining hours of the day were disappointingly standard in comparison to the art lesson, though this only meant that the art lesson had now become Douglas's most anticipated class.

As soon as the bell had rung, Douglas wasted no time in escaping his final class and racing home, hoping to abandon his school to some form of unforeseen fate. In comparison to the Art class he had, the rest of his classes not only seemed tedious, but almost pointless. Douglas considered his other classes and how bland they felt in comparison to the Art class. The new teacher, as terrifying and almost dangerous as he seems, definitely seems to have strived and worked to earn his reputation as an artist.

As he pondered this, he turned a corner and continued down the street towards his home, too distracted by his thoughts to consider the obstacle in his path. Before he could possibly react, he felt a pair of hand press against his shoulders in order to prevent the pair from colliding. Douglas finally focused his attention away from his thoughts and upon the person who had prevented his progress, recognising them as the blonde student that was new to his class.

The pair took the passing opportunity to stare into eachother's eyes and analyse eachother, before Douglas stuttered incoherently "Oh, you… uh…". As angry as he was at her for her actions during the class, Douglas found himself to be too cautious and considerate to find the strength to engage in any form of argument with her. Douglas instead attempted to proceed passed her and continue his journey back to his house, but was one again halted when the girl grabbed his arm and turned him to directly face her.

"I'm… I'm so sorry about what I said earlier" she suddenly whispered under her breath, her voice unmistakably thick with a lack of confidence. "Oh. Don't be sorry. I shouldn't have been so-" Douglass began, before the girl interrupted "No, it was all my fault. I shouldn't have been so rude, but it's just that…" The girl shut her eyes, hung her head in disappointment and concluded "Pinky Flamingo is my hero, and I wanted to make him proud".

She turned away and added "I thought that you were going to embarrass me in front of him because I hadn't finished my work. That's why I…" before feeling a small, liquid droplet run down her cheek. She turned away in embarrassment over her breakdown and muttered pitifully "I don't know why I got so angry at you". At this moment, Douglas realised that he was right be wary of this girl, but for an entirely different reason than what he expected.

Even though she obviously meant no offence and seemed to be foreign to the concept of belligerence, contradictive to his belief in the classroom, this sudden overemotional breakdown showed her to be somewhat unstable. Douglas often found discomfort in associating himself with mentally unstable people, whether based on his reputation's sake or simply based on the unpredictability if their actions.

"Well, I'm sorry too. I guess I was a bit pushy… but I hope we can just forget about that" Douglas offered, smiling as he scratched the back of his head unconfidently. "Yeah… okay" she answered, wiping her tears away ungraciously after finally recuperating from her breakdown. "Oh!" Douglas suddenly exclaimed as he reached into his coat's pocket, "Wait a minute. I've got tissues in here if you-". The girl shook her head and smiled innocently, "Please, no… that's not necessary".

After a short silence, the girl's smile widened as she stated "I never actually introduced myself to anyone yet, so…", before stretching her hand towards him in preparation. Douglas took her outstretched hand as she introduced herself, "Taylor. Taylor Ingram". "My names Douglas. Douglas Bramston" Douglas explained as the pair shook hands, "I actually live just up this road, just so you know". After the negotiation, the pair parted ways and Douglas continued his way home, eager to inform his parents of the shocking news he has for them.

* * *

Douglas continued down his street at a leisurely pace of travel, his hands in his pockets and singing a tune to himself. _"I was made for loving you, baby! You were made for loving' me_!" he sang under his breath, _"And I can't get enough of you, baby. Can you get enough of me"_. As he continued to quote his favourite rock song, his gaze shifted between the different homes along his street, his attention on their gardens specifically.

His attention was drawn to their arrays of flowers and other various matters of vegetation that grew without hindrance, analysing them carefully as if to find a clear strategy to mimic the healthy condition they expressed towards the occasional passing public. Douglas was never interested by gardening as a typical hobby, let alone a sustainable career, though the stale condition of their family's in comparison would clearly reflect badly upon his reputation as a renowned artist.

This desire was only further amplified once Douglas found himself standing before his homes, staring upon the faulty and mediocre state of his home's garden. Nevertheless, Douglas refocused his attention upon his current situation and its requirements, so he gripped the top of the gate before hoisting himself over the top and landing with both feet against the ground in a single operation. From here, he wandered across the paved walkway to his steps and ascending them to his door.

Before opening the front door however, he carefully listened for any recognisable sound that may indicate his family's current activities, specifically for any sounds resembling an unfamiliar voice emitting from the living room. As he had predicted, he could hear the sound of an elder woman's voice explaining the upcoming weather forecasts for the following weekday. His suspicion's confirmed, Douglas pulled the door opened and made his way through the cool air within his hallway.

He carefully stepped his way through the hallway as he minded the floorboards he was treading upon, hoping that this would aid his chances of catching his family by surprise. "Surely, they must know already" he thought to himself, remembering their reaction to Pinky Flamingo's first appearance in Olympia. "As soon as I enter that room" he continued his speculation, "My mom and sister are gonna start screaming with joy".

Douglas leaned his back against the wall and quietly shifted across its surface, finally halting at the very edge before the open door to the living room. Douglas smiled smugly as he stepped into the open and leaned his arm against the open door, his legs crossed casually in a waiting stance. From here, as he had expected, he found his father and mother sitting either side of his sister as the three of them watched the current program on the television.

"Hey, everyone" he greeted casually, expecting a series of synchronised head turns followed by a pair of gasps along with screams of delight. However, unlike the events he had expected to follow, his mother simply replied "Hi, honey" as his sister waved a casual wave towards his general direction without facing him. Disappointment washed over Douglas, though he concluded that this reaction must've meant that they had no knowledge of the exciting news yet.

Douglas took this opportunity and announced to his family "I have something important to tell you all", His father and mother turning to face him in expectation. "Do you remember that artist that came to Olympia yesterday?" he questioned before tapping his index finger against his chin in concentration, "Now what was his name again?" "Pinky Flamingo?" his mother offered, Douglas snapping his fingers and exclaiming "Thar's it! Well…" before grinning smugly.

"Well he just so happens to be…" Douglas began before pausing abruptly, his parents and sister gazing upon him expectantly. Douglas's smile grew wider from this audience he had assembled, imagining some form of drum roll to begin playing before his finally finished his sentence, "…my brand new art teacher". A short silence followed, though Douglas knew that it would not last for very long.

"Are you serious?!" his sister Amanda questioned in shock, suddenly standing up from the couch. Douglas chuckled smugly and replied "Yep! He did an art lesson with my class and we were painting portraits", enjoying what he'd assume was his sister's overwhelming envy. His parents looked at eachother in excitement before his mother leapt up the seat and hugged her son with delight, "Oh, Douglas. Do you know how amazing this is?! What is he like?"

Douglas pondered how to phrase the teacher's personality, consider how he only had an estimated two hours to learn of it. Finally Douglas answered "Well… he does definitely seem to be firm and to-the-point, like a teacher should" before pausing to consider his following statement, "But honestly, he is pretty cool! He speaks like a gangster and really knows how to keep control of the class". His mother smiled from this and asked "What else can you remember".

The conversation over Douglas's brand new educator managed to continue for almost the exact length of the class that Douglas attended, and it soon died away with praises for Douglas's luck from his parents. By eight o'clock, he had prepared for his sleep and shut off the lights in his bedroom, before folding the covers over his body. However, as he spent several minutes to allow the fatigue to spread through his body, he came to a sudden realisation.

He never mentioned Taylor to his family.


	3. Chapter 3: Lousy First Impressions

**Chapter 3**

'Tuesday', a term that signifies an oncoming painfully slow continuation of the processing weekdays. Douglas grunted in irritation as he grudgingly sat up from his mattress and tossed his blanket to the side, stretching his muscles until a majority of his bones snapped into their appropriate positions. He turned to his alarm clock as his eyes strained to see the displayed time, his body becoming filled with dread as to his current situation.

7:30 AM.

Douglas shrugged indifferently, already having prepared his schedule for his morning before he must attend his first class. By 7:50 he had prepared his schoolbag and all of his art tools; by 8:00, he had finished his breakfast; by finally, by 8:30, he had suited himself into his traditional school uniform, a white buttoned shirt with a pair of black dress pants and shoes. He left through the front door after saying goodbye to his sister, his parents seeming to have left in their car, and travelled through the neighbourhood towards his school.

As soon as he passed through the blandly standard gate by the school's bland standards, he immediately spotted his friends sitting together at an outdoor lunch table. As he was chatting away, the conversation remaining out of Douglas's auditory range, Brock idly spotted Douglas and waved him over. As he approached his colleagues, Fergus and Leonard shifted to either side of the table in order to accommodate their guest.

As soon as he sat in the provided space, Douglas immediately found himself surrounded by expectant eyes. "Was there something you wanted to tell us, Doug?" Leonard asked smarmily, the others chuckling alongside him. Brock tapped the table to gain Douglas's attention and explained "Word has it, Doug, that you've already hooked yourself up with that new girl in our class". Douglas immediately understood the nature of this conversation and attempted to avoid the topic.

"Why would you think _that_ , guys?" He asked with a small chuckle. Leonard leaned closer and replied "Because, as I was heading home, I just so happened to watch you and her get together along your street". Douglas simply stared at his in disbelief "Were you spying on me?" Leonard shrugged indifferently and responded "Well… technically I was spying on _her_ , but that's what I do. I'm officially the school's spy; hell, I was actually _paid_ to spy on her". "Oh yeah? Then who paid you?!" Douglas exclaimed, only for Leonard to smile and reply "How much are you willing to spend to know?"

Douglas tensed with bottled rage and sighed. Leonard scratched his lengthy black fringe and shifted t aside to reveal his left eye, asking "The true question is… If you weren't hooking up with that girl, what were you doing with your arms around her? Looking for a place to stick a knife?" A few chuckles emitted around the table, Douglas remaining unamused and retaliated "I didn't have my arms around her, I had them on her shoulders!" before suddenly realising the situation he had inserted himself into; "But that was just to stop her from crying".

The table suddenly became silent, his friends staring in confusion from his explanation. "Was she crying? I didn't see _that_ " Leonard asked curiously, if also somewhat accusingly. "Well, she was… but I didn't hurt her or anything. The whole time I've known her, she's seemed a bit… unstable". The subject became incredibly awkward and both Douglas and his friends could feel the uncomfortable atmosphere around them. Thankfully, as of their saviour, the lunch bell rang to mark the end of the first lunch period, and Douglas wasted no time abandoning the table and leaving to head for his first class.

On his way to his math class, he passed by the corridor to access his locker, remaining wary of spotting Taylor in the various crowds surrounding him. However, unbeknownst to him, Taylor had been aware of Douglas's presence from the moment he entered the through the school gate, and had been watching him throughout the course of the first lunchbreak. Her outlook on Douglas had greatly shifted during their original introduction on his street, but hearing the words he had said about her were beyond painful, but she was completely willing to agree with him.

* * *

Two hours later, Douglas and the rest of the class had assembled into the classroom, their portrait canvases having already been prepared on their desks. Douglas turned to face the desk and found Pinky Flamingo sitting in preparation for his class's arrival, smiling his trademark smile of doom and glaring towards each student that entered through the doorway. "Come inside, class. Dis lesson, we're gonna finish off last class's portraits" the teacher instructed.

Douglas gazed down towards his portrait of himself, irritated by his lack of an art partner, and was unsatisfied with its current style. He overlooked the classroom and spotted Eric to his left, who was idly staring at his half-finished portrait of himself. "Hey, wh-" Douglas began, before he was interrupted by Eric's raised finger. Eric stared at him silently as he laid a finger against his lips in a _'shush!'_ expression, before he returned to his artwork. Douglas decided to do the same as to not rouse attention from his teacher and spent the passing hours in concentration.

An hour had passed since the class had started, and most of the class had almost finished their portraits. In the ominous silence of the passing hour, Pinky Flamingo had managed to fall asleep during the course of it, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk like a stereotypical crime boss. Douglas himself was almost finished with his artwork, despite his disliking of the final product, though he was proud that he managed to endure the tedious nature behind artistry.

Pinky relieved a long sigh as his seat leaned further backwards, the balance suddenly shifted and sending the teacher toppling backwards and landing with a loud _'Thud!'_ against the floor. "ARGH! What the-" he shouted suddenly, frightening his class and diverting them from their artworks. He clawed his way up from the floor as his black gloves dud deeply into the desk, before he rested his head against the edge drearily.

Several of the classmates chuckled from the teacher's clumsy act of unprofessionalism, but were silenced by an almost blood-curdling glare from the latter. Pinky than turned the clock on the desk to learn of current time, which had just passed 12:00 pm, 15 minutes before the next class begins. Pinky cackled to himself and yelled "Alright! Time is up, class! Each of ya's gonna show me ya're artwoiks an' I's gonna judge 'em!"

If they not already fearful of the teacher beforehand, the class were utterly petrified of his oncoming criticism of their skill and possible punishments. Several even speculated what his punishments could be, some even considering such drastically disturbing fates as public executions or torture chambers. Nevertheless, each student formed an orderly line to have their artworks critiqued, Douglas standing just behind Taylor.

As he waited for his chance to have his artwork disapproved, Douglas looked towards Taylor, noticing her to be occasionally twitching and shivering uncontrollably. He decided not to question this behaviour and conclude that she was just nervous, considering how she desires to impress the very inspiration of her artistry. She stepped forward and placed her artwork on the desk, Pinky staring in expectation as he took the artwork to examine it.

"I-It's not really… my best. But-" Taylor nervously confessed, only for Pinky to hold his gloved hand up to silence her, stating "I'll be de judge of dat!" As he said this, Douglas considered Pinky's gloved hand and realised how unnaturally long his fingers actually were, "It probably is what makes him paint so well" Douglas thought. Both Taylor and Douglas watched as Pinky finished analysing the painting and turned to Taylor to offer his final verdict, "I can definitely say dis, kid; It's probly de best paintin' so far".

Taylor cupped her mouth in shock from this, appearing ready to scream with delight and barely containing it. "Now get back ta ya seat and wait for de lesson ta end" Pinky instructed, Taylor obliging with sating a single word in response. Douglas stepped forward and offered his artwork, Pinky snatching it firmly from his grasp and examining it. From the beginning, Pinky already began frowning as he studied the painting, already lowering Douglas's expectations. Pinky placed the portrait on his desk and cupped his hands together.

"I dunno what ta tell ya, kid" he began, before he stopped to consider his next sentence. In a fit of impulse, Douglas quietly asked "It stinks, doesn't it?", to which Pinky quickly replied "Yeah, it kinda does". Douglas explained "Well, I haven't really had much experience with portraits", to which Pinky soon stated "Listen, kid. I don't like hearin' excuses for failure or a lack o' talent; but in dis case, I'm gonna make an exception". Douglas sneered towards the teacher and nodded in agreement.

"I'll tell ya what" Pinky began, before rising from his seat and clearing his throat. "Listen up, class. I's aware dat many o' ya aven't done de best dat I know ya can in dis class. So I's thinkin' ta all need some inspiration". The class listened carefully as Pinky continued "Next week, I's gonna take ya all on a field trip to my own museum". The class murmured and whispered amongst each other, several voices sounding excited and other sounding worried in tone; the whispering was soon interrupted by the sound of the bell, ringing to mark the end of class and the beginning of the second lunch.

Each class member filed through the door with single minded determination, Douglas remaining behind in order to consult with his teacher one final time. "I didn't realise you had a museum here in Washington, Mr. Fandango". Pinky chuckled to himself sinisterly before rubbing his hands together with glee, "Y'know, kid… neider did I". With his final confusing reply, he turned on his heel and strutted melancholically down the hallway before rounding the corner.

Douglas, understandably confused by this statement, followed his teacher down the hallway in order to question his meaning. However, as soon as he reached the corner and gazed down the hallway in search for his superior, the hallway itself appeared to be completely scarce of life. He carefully staggered his way to the other end, completely dumbfounded by this anomaly, but soon decided to abandon this fruitless endeavour and prepare for his next class.

* * *

It was currently Sunday morning, following an uneventful Friday and Saturday, and the Sunday did not appear to have any significant shift from the previous days' mediocre progression. Douglas had decided to wander his block for a few hours, hoping to find himself some action by a sheer coincidence. Unfortunately, he had yet to find anything remotely resembling an uncommon occurrence in his neighbourhood, and the second hour had already begun to pass.

He had reached the local grocery store for the second time when he finally spotted a familiar face, Leonard Fergusson leaning nonchalantly against the corner of the store. Douglass waved at him in greeting, Leonard failing to notice as his head remained lowered, so Douglas decided to approach him regardless. As he neared the infamous and self-proclaimed 'spy of the school', Leonard finally noticed his colleague and chuckled ominously.

"Um… what's so funny?" Douglas asked in confusion, Leonard's smile growing even wider from the question. He soon inhaled and answered "You're still not going after that Taylor girl, are you?", Douglas replying inscrutable "Well… I never was going after her to begin with, so I guess not". Leonard shrugged and continued "Well, in _that_ case… You don't mind if I have a shot at her, right?" Douglas eyed him suspiciously and stated "Strange… I thought you didn't like going out with girls, Leonard".

"Who ever said I liked her?"

Douglas became more confused the more Leonard continued, and Leonard appeared to be aware of this. "Let me explain. I'm not gonna date her or anything… But I do definitely wanna get to know her better" the smarmy informant informed, the situation finally starting to make sense. "You wanna keep spying on her" Douglas claimed, his consultant smiling deviously and answering "You told us how unstable she seemed to be, so I feel like keeping a closer watch on her".

Douglas stepped backwards in awe of this revelation, informing Leonard "You have no clue how evil you sound right now". In return, Leonard snickered to himself and responded "Of course I do; and that's not even the most evil part". Douglas tensed defensively as Leonard continued "If she does so happen to be hiding something, and if she does so happen to be a little insane, can you guess what I'll do with such information?"

Douglas remained silent before questioning "You're gonna blackmail her, aren't you?" If Leonard wasn't subtle beforehand, he was incredibly expressive in his sinister nature as her cackled audibly before answering "Anything I want or I'll tell someone who'd like to know her dirty little secrets". Douglas could not lie to himself, Leonards was beginning to worry him with this unforeseen plot for extortion.

Suddenly, Douglas realised how ridiculous the whole plot was in actuality and chuckled to himself. "I gotta say. If it weren't for how impossibly ambitious your plans are, you would have had me going there". Leonard grew a stern expression as he exclaimed "What? You think I'm bluffing?! Have you seen the way she looks, dude?! A hot girl with mental problems; just imagine it! Imagine _that_ and the payment I could get for her blackmail! I _want_ to spy on her!"

Douglas backed away as Leonard explained this and was prepared to turn on his heel and bolt; what Leonard was saying was truly beginning to sound like the rantings of a forlorn stalker. Leonard, for his part, sighed and concluded "Nevermind, dude. I'm just finding ways to just make money for info". Douglas simply shrugged in order to portray indifference and replied "Sure. I wouldn't worry about it, personally. I just wasn't expecting something so extreme".

As the conversation died, Leonard stepped away from the wall of the store and brushed his jacket off of any lint. "Well anyway, I need to get home and get my school stuff ready. I'll see you tomorrow, dude". Douglas smiled and answered "Yeah, I'll see you too", and Leonard soon began walking down the street. Before he left, however, Leonard turned around and asked "Oh… By the way. How's that new teacher of yours? Cuz he gives me the creeps". Douglas chuckled and answered "Me too. But you do get used to him after a while", satisfying Leonard's curiosity as he continued down the road.


	4. Chapter 4: The Art Museum

**Chapter 4**

It was a Monday morning, and for the first time in his entire life, Douglas was completely ecstatic to arrive at school on time. He was excited for the tour that his art teacher Pinky Flamingo had prepared for his class, though the methods behind preparing this excursion remained unknown. Pinky was apparently unaware of a museum in Washington that was entirely themed around himself, though Douglas was uninterested in the reasoning behind this situation, simply assuming the teacher meant that he hadn't known of it until recently.

As soon as he entered the gate, he heard the loud and incredibly ear-piercing bellow of the bus horn, and it seemed to emanate from the car park. He trudged his way towards the source of the sound, already exhausted from the distance he had travelled in order to arrive at the school entrance, and was relieved to find his classmates standing beside an awaiting school bus. He joined the crowd as Leonard noticed his presence and approached him, exclaiming "Hey, dude! About time you got here; the teacher's on his way back now!" in order to overcome the bus's noisy engine.

As soon as he said this, Leonard suddenly noticed their superior instructor approaching through a row of cars, stylised in his flamboyant attire as always. He stepped before his class and announced "Good mornin', students!" before pointing a gloved finger towards the open door of the bus, "Now, would ya's be gracious enough ta move ya butts onta da bus!?" Shocked by this aggressive question, the students quickly piled on-board and found a seat for themselves, settling quietly as they awaited for the bus to pull away.

Five minutes since the bus had departed, the class had begun chatting and conversing amongst eachother to pass the time, Pinky Flamingo disregarding these conversations through his periodic nap. Douglas sat beside Brock towards the rear of the bus, Leonard and Alex Crestwood chatting a row ahead of them. Douglass looked over the class and noticed Eric in the second row seat, remaining quiet as the rest of the class freely conversed around him.

"Hey, Brock" Douglas huffed as he turned to his partner, the latter offering his attention as Douglas asked "Have you noticed how Brock's been pretty quiet recently?" Brock's eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully as he paused to ponder this question, before he answered "That's true. He hasn't said a lot recently". Douglas shook his head and replied "Honestly, it's not just him being quiet, dude. I seriously think he hasn't said a single word in the past five days".

Brock sighed and replied "I know right? And he's not the only one, either. Patrick and Fiona have gotten quiet recently too". Douglas looked ahead to find Patrick sitting in a seat in the fourth row, and as expected, is sitting silently to himself without any single movement. "Ugh, I'll bet you that something's going on with them. But I wish I could find out what". "What's that I hear?" Douglas suddenly heard in the row ahead of him, soon to discover the source for the question to be Leonard, who had turned to face both Brock and Douglas.

"I thought you said you needed to know something about someone else" Leonard stated, a sly grin stretching across his pale cheeks. "Shut up Leonard. We're not gonna pay you to stalk people" Douglas muttered angrily, Leonard sneering in retaliation. "Fine, then. But at least I can _always_ find somebody else who will" Leonard grumbled in dissatisfaction, before returning to his original position.

As more time passed by, approximately five minutes of unintelligible crowd chatter and the roar of the bus's engine, Douglas began searching for Taylor amongst the rows of occupied seats. Taylor herself remained quiet in her seat, and was among the few students without a partner beside her. "Oh… and by the way…" Douglas suddenly heard and looked towards Leonard, the latter continuing "I learned a bit about Taylor if you're interested". Unlike before, Douglas became intrigued and considered this offer, until Leonard admitted "It's not much, though; so I'll only charge about… a buck".

Douglas, having remained silent from deep thought, relieved a weighed sigh and replied "Alright, fine. Just give me a second to find my wallet". He reached down to his bag and turned away from both of his consultants, as Brock soon asked curiously "How do you know anything about her, anyway?" Leonard smirked and replied "A professional never explains his methods", prompting Brock to simply roll his eyes and begin scanning his view across the streets they passed.

"Got it" Douglas announced and he extracted a dollar bill from his wallet, before cautiously handing it over to the devious informant. Leonard enthusiastically snatched the bill before beginning "Well first off… I know that she's got a re-". Leonard was suddenly interrupted as the bus came to a sudden halt, sending the entire both, including the teacher, surging forward. Pinky Flamingo was startled from his nap and quickly arose from his seat to address his class, "Here we are, class! Dis is my own poisonal museum of artwoiks".

As the class hurried out of the bus to escape the clutches of their clearly psychopathic bus driver, Leonard followed behind Douglas and whispered "Sorry about this dude. I'll tell when we get back on the bus". Douglas simply nodded and followed after his classmates towards the entrance to the building. Surprisingly to Douglas, the museum had less resemblance to a traditional museum and more closely resembled a jazz themed clubhouse, a fitting abode for an artist of Pinky's style. Pinky opened the door and held his hand before the entrance.

"Alright class… step inside. Hehehehe…"

* * *

The moment Douglas stepped inside, his thoughts were assaulted by the interior of the building. Purple and black painted walls, multi-coloured lighting, mellow jazz music sounding through the various speakers; these features would identify a building of this style as a night club or some form of runway studio. Regardless, Douglas and the rest of the students were in absolute awe of the building's extravagance.

Pinky flamingo strutted his way passed his class with his hands behind his back, before breathing a sigh of satisfaction and smiling widely. "Did place has all o' me life's woiks. Every paintin' I've evah made is inside dis buildin'". He turned to face he class and held his hands out, "De lot o' ya are free ta see da whole buildin' by yaselves. But ya only have half an hour before we leave". Soon, the whole class disbanded and began exploring the museum of their own accord, including both Douglas and Taylor.

Taylor soon found herself completely lost in the world within the museum, the surreal design of the building coupled with the dreamy jazz music invading her ears leaving her in an almost hypnotic state. She wearily wandered aimlessly through the building as her focus shifted between the various paintings, a satisfied smile on her face as she gazed upon the true skill and personality that was her teacher Pinky Flamingo. However, despite Taylor's expressed delight, Douglas found himself bewildered by the atmosphere surrounding him.

Every painting he had seen within the building was a portrait, each seeming almost identical to the images one would receive from a photograph. While the design and attention to detail seemed beyond stunning to Douglas, the source material of each artwork were practically haunting. Every person within the portrait had some form of wound or disfigurement upon their bodies, accompanied by a horrified expression or each of their faces.

Douglas continued to the end of the hallway, before finding himself inside a spacious room with little light. He searched throughout the chamber, surrounding himself with the columns and artworks that aligned the walls. However, one certain artwork stood out amongst the rest, mainly for it's source material. None other than the demented artist himself had been poised for a canvas and displayed himself in all their glory, Douglas shaking his head and muttering "Man… this place just feels… wrong".

"What's that supposed to mean?" he heard a voice from behind him. He turned to find Taylor standing before him, her expectant gaze shifting as she raised her eyebrow. "Well, uh… I dunno. I just think this place is a bit… creepy". Taylor furrowed her eyebrows and asked "What? What do you mean? This place is amazing!" Douglas shrugged and explained "Well, the place itself is cool… but these portraits… they are kinda freaking me out".

Taylor couldn't help but smile as Douglas squirmed and laughed quietly to herself, before answering "Well, that's just because you've never known Pinky Flamingo". Douglas considered this and exclaimed "Wait.. You mean to tell me that every paining in this building is like this?!" Taylor stepped backwards and replied "Hey, who are you to question art?! Pinky Flamingo has been painting these artworks for nearly his whole life". "A whole life of painting the same artworks?!" Douglas questioned, "Man, no wonder he acts so-".

"DON'T YOU DARE CALL HIM CRAZY!"

Douglas flinched in shock from this outburst and stepped away from his enraged classmate, though Taylor herself seemed just as bewildered by her own actions. "I did it again! I can't believe I just yelled at you again! I am so sorry!" She spilled an immense flood of apologies to Douglas, the latter only standing in awe of this scene she has created. "I dunno why… but, stuff like that just makes me so angry".

Douglas held his hands up and answered "No, that's fine! I understand that you _really_ admire this guy" before offering a smile, "I guess… I just can't really get into it". "No that's… fine… I guess" Taylor whimpered pitifully, her eyes beginning to shed frightened tears before she began viciously wiping them away. Before Douglas could comment on this gesture, Taylor suddenly spun on her heel and ran down the corridor before disappearing around the corner, her footsteps echoing faintly in the distance.

Douglas followed after and rounded the corner, only to find Brock running towards him from the yonder corridor. Brock stopped before Douglas and asked "Did you see Taylor down here?" to which Douglas furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and explained "She just ran dow the way you came". "That's what I mean; she just ran passed me, crying her eyes out. What happened?" Brock asked curiously. "I dunno. She had another breakdown, I guess" Douglas explained as he scratched the back of his hair.

"Well anyway…" Brock abandoned the subjects and continued "I wanna show you something". Douglas shrugged in obligation and followed after Brock as the latter turned and wandered further down the hallway, before stopping and standing before specific portrait. Douglas and Brock both gazed upon the portrait and Douglas was met with a disturbing revelation; the person portrayed in the painting bears an almost exact resemblance to Eric.

"That's… pretty freaky. I wonder if Eric's seen this yet" Douglas questioned as he continued to analyse the artwork. As he did, Douglas soon found a minor oddity in the artwork; while Eric's eyes were blue, the person within the portrait beared a pair of hazel eyes. "So I guess it's a coincidence, after all" Douglas confirmed before the duo turned away and continued to witness the many horrific artworks of a genuine madman.

* * *

Taylor leaned against a column within the foyer of the museum, having spent the past five minutes of her time regaining her composure from a previous emotional breakdown. Tear stains that had previously poured down her cheeks had long since dried and Taylor had finally steadied her breathing, relieving a final sigh as he finally stepped away from the column. She cupped her hands on her mouth and whispered "Why is this happening?! This has never happened to me before! I've never had meltdowns like that at people before".

She staggered cautiously through the foyer as she began pondering the situation, "That poor guy; he seems so nice. He must think I'm some kind of psycho" she thought to herself. She hung her head shamefully as her blonde hair draped over her face, "Maybe… maybe he's right to think I'm a psycho". This final thought had resulted in her tears re-emerging to expose her hidden misery for the outside world to witness. Soon, her thoughts were suddenly distracted by the sound of the mounted speakers surrounding her to emit a noisy announcement.

"Listen up, kids! Da tour's ovah! So get back ta da entrance o' da buildin'!"

Douglas heeded these words and retraced his stepped towards the entrance of the building, finally finding the rest of his classmates standing in preparation to leave this surreal purgatory. Recollecting his activities, he considered the tour to not only be practically non-existent, but possibly detrimental for his artistic prowess. The various ghastly images of wounded persons vaguely resembled an artist's theme and seemed identical to a signature of a serial killer, a serial killer with a lot of patience and time on his hands.

Finding Brock amidst the crowd, he mingles amongst his classmates as he listened carefully to Pinky Flamingo's instructions. "Alright, kids! Everybody onta da bus! Tomorrow, I want da lot o' ya ta write out a 200 hundred woid essay on dis excoision!" The students, including Douglas, nodded in confirmation as Pinky held the entrance door open, every student forming an orderly line and proceeding passed their teacher towards the street.

Finally reboarding the bus, the students finally found an opportunity to relax for the intense experience, Douglas and the rest of his friends included. Douglas shifted carefully passed his classmates towards the rear of the bus, thankfully finding a vacant pair of seats that he could occupy for himself and sitting ungraciously beside the window. He spotted Leonard approaching him and waved him over with an expectant stare, Leonard clearly aware of Douglas's demands and nodding in confirmation.

However, unexpected by both Leonard and Douglas, his advertised seat was suddenly occupied, the occupant herself sitting quietly as Douglas analysed her features to learn her identity. Taylor turned to face him and sighed "I'm sorry, you don't mind if… _I_ sit here, do you?" Douglas returned his gaze to Leonard, the latter raising his hands in defiance and turning to find a new seat, Douglas tensing in irritation from this gesture. He faced Taylor and smiled, "Sure, I don't mind".

Five minutes of the bus ride was occupied with an atmospheric silence, both from Douglas, Taylor and the rest of the bus. Since the bus had left, only a selected minority of students were conversing and negotiating amongst eachother, the rest remaining both silent and motionless as the time passed. Taylor finally broke the silence as she whispered unconfidently "I'm sorry for… the way I've been acting", Douglas considering this apology and deciding to rick an intrusive approach.

"Is there something I should know?"

Taylor's eyes widened in genuine surprise as this unexpected intrusion of her privacy was spoken, the question itself only seemed evermore warranted. She exhaled nervously and began "Well… I guess I should explain", Douglas listening intently as she continued "I am a real fan of Pinky Flamingo… But I think it's becoming… an obsession". Douglas deflated as his raised expectations were wasted, the knowledge had accumulated on Taylor having been perfectly explained in her own words.

"I think it's giving me mood swings".

Douglas's disappointment was immediately replaced by a newfound intrigue, his suspicions of Taylor's nature having suddenly been proceeded indefinitely. "I don't really know how mood swing works, but I guess that's what's been happening" Taylor stated dryly, Douglas only capable of offering a shrug as a response for this bizarre analysis. "I really wouldn't worry about it if I were you, Taylor. This whole 'mood swing' thing doesn't really bother me. We can still be frie-".

Douglas was suddenly silenced from his final word on the matter but a sudden invasion of his personal space, namely the fact that Taylor had suddenly bound him in a tight hug and was resting her head against his shoulder. As unexpected as this action was to Douglas, he didn't find the strength to resist and simply remained motionless. He faced ahead to find several heads to be turned in his direction, including both Brock and Leonard, the latter smiling slyly.

This sudden attraction of attention from his classmates was warranted to a degree, though Douglas couldn't comprehend the attention that he and Taylor were drawing. Finally, Taylor released Douglas from her public display of affection and simply smiled as she settled comfortably into her seat. Douglas couldn't help but chuckle from the absurdity of the situation, though Taylor was lost in the satisfaction her actions had earned her. She turned to face Douglas and whispered "Nobody has ever told me that they wanted to be friends with me before."


	5. Chapter 5: An Utter Minority

**Chapter 5**

Douglas had returned home after the extremely surreal excursion to Pinky Flamingo's art museum and began searching the house for any of his relatives to greet. He stopped by the living room and found his sister sitting quietly as she watched the news, so Douglas decided to join her. As soon as he sat, a familiar name were spoken from the news host, urging him to pay constant attention to the following reports.

"Up next, the famous artist Pascal Fandango, known more commonly amongst the public by his Italian pseudonym Pinky Flamingo, has publicly announced the opening of his Washington art museum to the public".

"Hang on a second!" Douglas suddenly exclaimed as he arose from his chair, "We went to that place just today!" "Really?! What was it like?" Amanda asked in excitement, Douglas turning to face her and answering "Huh? … Oh! Well, it's not what you'd expect. It looks more like a gangster clubhouse than a museum". Douglas turned back to face the television as the reporter continued his monologue of appraisal for the madman, "But, I didn't realise that the place wasn't publicly open yet".

"Maybe he had permission to show the place to you guys" Amanda claimed, clearly attempting to offer an explanation to this bizarre situation. "Maybe, but I doubt it" Douglas admitted, before adding "Well, at least this does explain why there was nobody else in the museum while we were there". As Douglas and Amanda continued to watch the television, Amanda soon huffed in annoyance "Hmmph! I wish I got to go there for free. Twenty dollars for entry is ridiculous".

Douglas turned to his sister and asked in surprise "Twenty dollars?! Just to see that same style of painting over and over throughout the whole building?!" He returned his gaze to the television, an image of the renowned artist currently being displayed for emphasis on his identity, "Not only does he paint artworks of dead people, he also robs people of tons of their money just because he's so famous! This guy's a monster!"

"Hey! He is _not_! He has made more artworks and an hour than any other artists could hope to make in a month; all without making a _single_ mistake or needing thinner!" Amanda shouted, suddenly deciding to defend her artistic idol. "I don't care if he can cure leprosy! He is _still_ the most volatile freak I have met in my whole life" Douglas exclaimed in a fit of frustration. Amanda's eyebrows furrowed with disapproval as she stated "Hah! You're just jealous of him, Douglas! He is a greater artist than an unlikable dork like you could ever _hope_ to be!"

Douglas stood in silence, barely capable of comprehending his situation. What was wrong with Amanda? Does she not understand how disturbing this man was? Why were so many people going crazy over this guy? How could he have become so famous? How could he become so rich?! And above all; why does everyone think Douglas is insane for speaking his mind?! Nevertheless, since Douglas was aware that these questions would inevitably remain unanswered, he decided to abandon the conflict and leave the living room to compose himself.

He stepped into the kitchen and rested his arm against the wall, his head lowered in concentration to find logical thoughts through his conflicting emotions. For one fact, Amanda could not prove her loyalty or appreciation for Pinky Flamingo's character, considering how she has yet to meet the artist in person, along with the rest of her family for that matter. Likewise, perhaps Amanda also has false assumptions of his work, considering how she has never seen the artworks he has painted in person either.

This thought brought a smile to Douglas's begrudged features, pleased that he now has leverage to convince his family of his teacher's true nature. He could convince his family to visit the art museum at some time during the following week, and only then could they finally be reasoned with frothier false assumptions. These thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the arrival of what Douglas resumed to be his parent, the front door creaking as wind gusted loudly through the gap.

"Kids, are you all home?" announced his father, Douglas responding with a loud "Yep! I'm in the kitchen and Amanda was in the living room, last I checked". After hearing several footsteps proceed past the kitchen and into the living room, Amanda then called to her parents "Douglas said he doesn't like Pinky!" Soon after, Douglas could hear his mother calling "Douglas, is that true?" Douglas cursed his sister for inevitable obeying the laws of sisterhood and answered "It's true. I'm not really fond of him or his work".

Douglas stepped out of the kitchen and entered the living room doorway to address his family in person, "I mean, yeah… his art skills are pretty good. But I just can't stand him as a person; heck, I can stand him even less as my art teacher". "Now, honey" his mother addressed him in authority, "Pascal has performed many achievements that have won him the respect of many artist made him incredibly wealthy". His dad then added "She's right, son. If you're gonna be an artist for a living, there are many tricks you can learn for this man".

Douglas was forced to admit his parents a victory; they had a good point about this. "Remember son; just because you don't respect a person for his personality, it _doesn't_ mean you can't respect him for his talents" his father concluded his advice, before adding "And trust me, Douglas, I know what I'm talking about. I have to spend several hours working at a studio with people I don't like". Douglas relieved a sigh and answered "I guess your right", before his father chuckled and responded "Of _course_ I'm right, I'm your dad!"

Douglas couldn't help but snicker from his father's rather dry humour, though still had many conflicting thoughts on the events that had occurred in his life recently. He decided to state "Though, to be fair, none of you have met him yet", his family facing eachother and nodding in confirmation. "I guess we'll have to change that" his mother advised, Douglas soon proposing "His art museum has just opened today, so I guess we can all go there some day during the week".

His family seemed excited by the whole idea, though Douglas was only interested in a second visit to that godforsaken place in order to achieve his own intent. His only ambition was to expose Pinky Flamingo's true nature to his family, whether to their approval or disapproval, as to no longer stand as a minority in his opinion.

"Now I just have to suffer him for the next few years to become a proper artist".

* * *

The following day, Douglas decided beyond his better judgement to skip preparing a proper breakfast and satisfy himself during the first lunch period. He packed his bag with his lunch before proceeding through the hallway and into his bedroom, opening his bedside table's drawers in search for supplies for his art class. As he was searching, he found a small bottle of thinner among a small unsorted pile of craft tools, and decided to pack it alongside the rest of his art utensils.

She dressed in his standard school uniform and stepped into the bathroom, before stopping to stare and analyse his reflection in the mirror. As he expected, his hair was entirely unkempt and entirely unbefitting of his formal attire, only aiding to remind him of the identical style of most gangster dress styles. From this, he remembered how Pascal Fandango would dress in a relatively formal outfit, despite how unformal his hairstyle or his behaviour was in contrast. Quickly banishing this thought, he turned away from the mirror and proceeded from the bathroom and out the front door.

An hour later, as he passed through the school gate, he began searching for any of his friends to chat with before the lessons begin. As he continued his search, he began to observe the rest of the student as they sat together at their designated lunch tables, continued to be disturbed by the unsettling silence among several. Finally he spotted Brock and Leonard sitting at their personal table of choice, though the rest of their group appeared to be missing.

He sat beside Leonard and asked "Where's everybody else?", Leonard turned to face him and replied "Well, everyone else is either not at school today or they are just wandering around the school for no reason" before sighing hanging his head in concentration. "Yeah, I tried to ask Matthew why, but he just shrugged at me and kept walking" Brock explained, before Douglas relieved an irritated exhale and questioned "Is everyone just forgetting how to _talk_ to people anymore?!"

Suddenly, as this was asked, the bell rang to mark the end of the lunch period. Begrudgingly, the trio were forced to disband as they each equipped themselves from their personal lockers in preparation for their morning classes. However, as he was heading to his maths class, Douglas passed by the art classroom and was diverted by the peculiar colour scheme emitting through the patterned window. Vast arrays of purple and blue could be seen and little light shone throughout the room to illuminate its contents. Douglas sighed in irritation, "You've got to be kidding me".

Following an hour and thirty minutes of an excruciatingly mediocre mathematics study, Douglas, Brock and Leonard re-banded to enter their following art class. "Oh, Douglas" Leonard whispered in sudden realisation, "I never told you that info about Taylor". "I already know enough about her, Leonard. She's suffering from mood swing" Douglas informed his informant, the latter simply standing in confusion.

Leonard leaned an elbow against the wall beside the door to the art room, explained "Well… I didn't know that…. I was gonna point out how she has a ton of posters of Pinky Flamingo in her bedroom". "Her bedroom?! You were in her bedroom, dude!?" Brock accused, Leonard waving his hand recklessly in denial and answering "Nonononono! I could see them through her window from the street". Douglas and Brock stared suspiciously at the potential stalker, " Leonard, do you realise that you were spy on a girl's bedroom?! I gotta say, that is just creepy, dude!"

"Dat makes two o' us, kid!"

Leonard spun around in shock to find a newcomer in their conversation, a man dressed in a pink business suit towering above him with his fists pressing into his hips in authority. "Care ta tell me again what ya were doin' at dat girl's house". Leonard remained silent, too petrified of the truly intimidating image standing before him, to which Pinky added "It's woith notin' dat _I_ was visitin' dat girl's 'ouse durin' Sunday night, kid!"

The bell suddenly rang to mark the beginning of the class, Pinky taking note of it and quickly explaining to the three miscreants "Dose posters are for motivational poiposes, an' 'er parents say dey 'elp 'er consentrate on 'er woik". As the teacher entered the class, the trio following after him, he concluded "Now, I don't wanna hear any more about spyin' on oder people's 'ouses, see?" Brock, Douglas and Leonard nodded in confirmation before quickly finding their seats, the rest of the class finally enter to prepare for the next lesson.

Douglas retrieved his pencil case from his bag and took a pencil and eraser for preparation to write his essay. With a piece of lined paper already supplied on his desk for writing, he wrote his name and the date before stopping to construct his introduction. As he did this, he leaned back in his chair and accidently shifted his backpack off of the backrest, sending most of his contents scattering across the floor and several student pausing to survey the disturbance. Douglas kneeled onto the floor to retrieve his items and collected most of them, before noticing his thinner and reaching for it.

Suddenly, the thinner was snatched from his grasp by a black cloven hand, a metallic _'Clack!'_ sounding as the fingertips held the base of the bottle. Pinky raised it to his height and observed the contents, "Thinna, eh?" before pulling Douglas to his feet and offering a stern glare. "I don' poimit use of thinna in my class, kid. Ya betta make sure I don' see it again". Baffled by this instruction, Douglas simply nodded, placing the thinner back in his back and returned to his seat.

Finally, after writing his 'honest' thought into his essay, the bell rang to mark the end of the lesson. Each student rose and formed an orderly line as each of Douglas's classmates handed their own essay to Pinky. Finally, when Pinky received Douglas's essay, being the last in line, he began reading it instead of simply placing in a pile amongst the others. As he read the description of Douglas's experience, Douglas watched as Pinky's intense smile began to twist into a displeased sneer, prompting him to quickly take his leave.

As he left, he could hear the sound of scrunching paper.

* * *

Douglas had finished the last of his lunch and began relaxing against the backrest of the lunch table's bench, his eyes shut in relaxation after escaping certain death at the hands of his teacher. Perhaps he was a little too honest in his descriptions and should've instead abandoned his freedom of speech by writing a positive review. His teacher seemed to express as much upon reading it, and is possibly hunting the school ground for him with the intent of burying him alive. Such a dilemma seemed likely considering what Pinky Flamingo's possible previous career would suggest.

"Ey! Ya still awake?"

Douglas tensed in surprise, fully expecting to find a psychopathic mobster standing before him with a rusty shovel once he opened his eyes. Miraculously, what he found instead was his colleague Brock, though the use of the art teacher's signature slurry excuse for an accent was confusing. "Oh hey brock" Douglas smiled before raising an eyebrow quizzically, "Why were you talking like Pinky Flamingo, though? You scared the life out of me, dude".

"Sorry about dat, I didn't mean ta spook ya like dat" Brock answered with a grin, almost mockingly. Douglas furrowed his eyebrows in disapproval before demanding "Hey! Cut that out, dude! I hate that accent!" Brock shrugged indifferently and replied, "Well, I guess ya's gonna have ta deal wid dat, cuz everybody in da school's talkin' like dis now!" as he held his arms out in emphasis. "Are you serious?!" Douglas exclaimed, before turning away and storming away from the lunch area without acknowledging Brock's confusion.

Douglas wandered the school in search of any form of gathering of classmates, before finally finding a gathering of four students standing before a set of lockers. He approached them and clicked his fingers to gain their attention, the four students observing him with eyebrows raised in expectation. "Please tell me you guys aren't talking in the art teacher's speakeasy accent" he asked bluntly, the four students smiling smugly towards eachother.

A single student stepped passed his three colleagues and leaned his elbow against the row of lockers, sneering "Who wants ta know? We's just chattin' about what we wrote for da teacher durin' de art class". Douglas held his head in his hands and growled in expressive frustration, exclaiming "Are you kidding me right now?!" as he ran his tensed fingers through his hair. The four student suddenly began chuckling amongst eachother from this action and returned to their original conversations, forcing Douglas to abandon his endeavour and leave towards the school grounds.

Douglas stormed his way through the courtyards until he finally found an isolated section that remained devoid of inhabitancy. He leaned his back against the mesh fence and exhaled with relief, finally considering himself free of the insanity he had previously found himself a witness to. He lost a majority of strength in his legs and slid down the fence into a sitting position, before eventually losing the strength in the rest of his body and becoming enveloped in fatigue and shutting his eyes.

Douglas had no clue how much time had passed since he fell asleep, though he doubted it would be enough to spare him from the rest of the oncoming lessons. Not enough time would pass in the time he could afford to sleep to spare him from enduring this bizarre fad that his classmates and the other students had suddenly become accustom to. The strange silence of the students prior to this behaviour was definitely unnerving to Douglas, though it was insurmountably more tolerable than the hundreds of voices he could hear speaking in that wretched accent.

"Douglas?"

"Go away…" Douglas groaned in irritation, before adding "If I hear that stupid accent one more time, I swear I'm gonna strangle you". "Dude, it's me!" a familiar, non-accented voice exclaimed, prompting Douglas to open his eyes to find a cautious Leonard standing before him. Douglas rocketed to his feet and yelled "Oh, dude! Sorry about that. But I just spent while escaping the rest of the school because of that stupid speakeasy tone they're all using".

"I know, me too. But that's not what I'm here for" Leonard explained before reaching into his jacket pocket, "Take a look at this, man!" Douglas observed curiously as Leonard retrieved a camera and initially turned it on, Leonard moving closer to him to offer a clearer view of its contents. An image was displayed on the screen and began rendering clarity, Leonard explaining in addition "I saw something that really scared the hell out of me!"

As the Image collected its data, Douglas's eyes widened, the image displayed showed Pinky Flamingo painting an artwork from his desk in the art classroom. Douglas suddenly realised the resemblance the person within the portrait with Douglas's friend Brock, bar the colour of his eyes having lost their natural shade of blue in favor for a mundane hazel. "I knew it wasn't a coincidence!" Douglas screamed in realisation, "Flamingo's been painting artworks of all of his students!"

"Now I dunno why he's doing it! I could be some twisted fantasy of his for all I know, or care for that matter!" Leonard admitted. "What do you mean?" Douglas asked in confusion, Leonard suddenly pointing at the paper for specification. "Look at his hands" Leonard whispered in shock, Douglas only now discovering Pinky's lack of black gloves in the picture, exposing his-. Douglas's eyes widened in terror before he grabbed the camera and stared at the image in disbelief.

Along the tips of Pinky Flamingo's left hand ware a series of metallic joints sporting coloured pencil ends along the tips, whilst the digits along his right hand sported a series of ghastly tool of craft. Douglas observed the right hand closely to identify each tool, finding his index finger to sport what appeared to be the blade of a switchblade pocketknife. However, this detail tied in correlation to the actions of the hand with the portrait.

Upon the location of the knife fingers placement on the artwork was a large gash along the person's chest.


	6. Chapter 6: Escalation

**Chapter 6**

Douglas and Leonard walked alongside each other down the street, their minds clouded by fear from their recent discovery. The contents of Leonard's camera contained a secret that was kept from them by their teacher, and provided a guise for his true nature. Unlike the globally renowned artist and the intense educator they had been led to identify him as, Pascal Fandango was in actuality an inhuman creature who armed with a deadly array of weapons on his fingers.

"What should we do about this?!" Douglas exclaimed inquisitively, holding his friends camera beside him for safe keeping. "I have no Idea!" he answered, before holding his hand to his mouth in terror, "I hope he's not up to something… like, really bad". Douglas stopped and held his friend by the shoulders, asking "Bad?! What do you mean by bad?! You think he could be some kind of serial killer or something!?" "I DON'T KNOW! MAYBE!" Leonard yelled before stepping away.

A period of silence passed before Douglas said "And now he's got everyone else in the class acting the same way!" Leonard thought for a second, before his eyes suddenly widened in realization, Douglas noticing this and questioning "What is it? What's the matter?" Leonard exhaled in fear before stating "He could be a part of a cult". Douglas remained silent, baffled by this speculative theory, though the possibilities of their teacher's religious affiliation remained a mystery.

"I mean think about it" Leonard instructed, "He paints artwork that feature people getting horribly maimed, he is popular among a lot of people in the world, and _now_ he's trying to get people to do the same things _he_ does! If that doesn't sound like some kind of demon worship or something like that, absolutely nothing does!"

Douglas turned away and entered a state of shock, falling to his knees in the vain hope to maintain the scrambled mass of thoughts and questions reeling in his head. How did his life accumulate to this moment? His life used to be about simply earning popularity and respect for his efforts, and somehow he's become about having a blackmailer for a best friend, possibly falling in love with a schizophrenic girl, and having a cyborg demon worshipper for a teacher.

"Wait! Taylor!" Douglas suddenly coming to a realization. Without hesitation, he turned to face the opposite direction they were walking in and grabbed Leonard's wrist, explaining "Taylor might be in trouble too. We should see her!" Leonard nodded and offered "I know where her house is, so I'll show you the way there". Satisfied with their two-part plan, they set off in the opposite direction of their own homes and headed to their Taylor's.

Soon enough, Douglas found relief of the exhausting run to Taylor's house when Leonard finally halted in his tracks, freeing Douglas of the burden of having to keep up with him. After catching his breath for several seconds, Douglas looked up to find their destination in the form of a large, two story foundation slicked with white panelling and a black steel panel roof. " _This_ is her house?" Douglas asked in disbelief.

"I know, right? I wasn't expecting it to be this big when _I_ first saw it either" Leonard admitted humorously. The pair approached the front door, Douglas stepping forward with his hand raised in preparation. He found the doorbell buzzer and pressed it, the traditional doorbell sound alerting whatever residence the house had of their presence. After a while, nobody came to answer the door, and Leonard turned to say "Maybe they're not a-".

"AAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

Suddenly, a loud scream pierced the air as it emanated from within the compound. The pair turned to face eachother in surprise followed by fear, recognising the voice in comparison to her various moments of frantic screams and rants in her recent encounters. Taylor was inside the house, and from how it sounds, she's in some kind of trouble. Douglas and Leonard reached for the doorknob and twisted it, knowing that they were the only people who could help her from her predicament.

As they entered the household and listened carefully for any more indications of her location, before finally hearing a second scream emitting from down the hallway. They ran through the extensive corridor at great pace, listening for her screams to identify which room she could be in. However, contrary to their expectations, the following sound was instead the violent shattering of glass, followed by several loud footsteps.

Finally, their trail ended at the final door to the left in the hallway, a golden plate bolted into the woodwork labelled "Study". "She's in here!" Douglas announced as he attempted to open the door, only to find the door to be locked from the inside. The room fell silent as the pair attempted to open the door be force, before Leonard reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of metallic pins. He pushed Douglas aside and hesitantly inserted both pins into the lock, quickly unlocking the door and pushing it open.

The duo quickly entered the room to find a horrific sight; the entire room and its furniture was in shambles. Several portraits littered the ground, each artwork sharing an identical portrait of someone's face. Within the centre of this chaos was the culprit herself, laying on her knees in shock as she muttered unintelligibly to herself. Douglas quickly ran to her aid and kneeled down to her level, asking "Hey Taylor, what happened?"

"It's not ready yet… I've been doing my best but I'm not good enough yet…" she wheezed weakly, before she felt her strength wain as she topple to the floor. Douglas quickly caught her and pulled her upright, though she offered little assistance and simply began breathing heavily to herself. "I have to finish it!" she shouted suddenly, before pushing away from Douglas and scrambling to the floor to find a canvas, with intent to reattempt her artwork.

"Taylor, stop!" Douglas quickly restrained her before pulling her to the nearby tarnished couch, before placing her in it as she shook her fists in rage. "But I have to finish it. And it needs to be nothing less than perfect!" she shrieked as tears began frowning from her eyes. Leonard stepped forward and asked in confusion "Who cares if your artwork isn't perfect? It's still good enough for people to see".

"I want to be perfect. Pinky Flamingo is perfect, so I can be perfect too! I wanna be the one who can paint the most flawless paintings" she ranted meekly, finally slouching in her seat from exhaustion. "So you've been painting the same portrait over and over again?" Leonard questioned, Douglas turned to glare at him in disapproval before refocussing his attention. "Well, there's actually a reason he can paint perfect artworks" Douglas informed before grabbing the camera from his side and showing the image it displayed to Taylor.

As she viewed the image, the lights left her eyes as they widened, as if a magic spell had been cast upon her. She carefully took the camera for herself and continued to gaze upon the truth, completely incomprehensive of what it was she could see. "He has… paint tools on his… fingers?" she whispered in surprise, and Leonard answered "Yeah… Also, we think the reason he paint's those horrid paintings is because he runs a cult".

"A cult?! He's a demon worshipper?!" Taylor stood up from the couch and continued "He's trying to make people think he's perfect, but he's just a cheater and a monster!" "We're trying to think of what to do about it" Leonard explained, and Douglas turned to face the state of the room.

"Maybe we should start by cleaning up before your parents get home".

* * *

Finally, it was the day that Douglas had craved for. The day when he would finally expose Pinky Flamingo for the psychotic monster he truly was, and there would no longer be any excuses anybody could make for his true nature. Today was, the day Pinky's museum would be opened and his parents would join him to see it on the opening day, a fact that Douglas was excited for alternative reasons.

Currently, Douglas sat quietly in the car beside his younger sister, his parents sitting in the front seats with his father driving. Despite his excitement to finally expose his teacher's true nature, he remained fearful of the circumstances of his plan. What if his teacher were to find out that he planned to do this? Why does he enjoy painting artworks of people suffering? Why do his classmates seem to act like him? How did it all tie together?

These thoughts were nulled as the car took a sharp turn to the left and finally sopped in the outside parking lot of the museum. Douglas was the first to leave the car, slamming the car door shut as he gazed upon the museum itself, looking almost exactly the way it did when he first entered through its doors. He walked with his family as they came to the very gateway into hell, pushing them open with nary a concern before they were beset by a peculiar surprise.

Unlike its original, gloomy stylisation from the previous week, the interior decoration was a powerful combination of several colours, including crossing of purple and vermilion and several traces of black. The light in the building had be replaced with fluorescent coloured lights that casted sever colours in random directions. However, much like before, a jazzy music track played over the speaker for the visitors to relax to.

As he had predicted, numerous people were in the building to examine the art, often in groups containing several children of several ages. So many people roamed the main hall that it was hard for Douglas and his family to find a clear path to the first few artworks. Eventually, the managed to find a clear glimpse for the first series of artworks on display, though what they witnessed was less than appealing to the eye.

The very first artwork was of a young boy, nothing beyond the age of ten, sporting several gash marks on his body and tears streaming from his eyes. Douglas slowly closed his eyes, personally offset by the grisliness of the perfectly executed rendition of a torture victim. There were several quiet whispers and murmurs within the crowd who clearly had similar reactions to these displayed paintings, several children within the crowd turning away in fear.

Even his parents had to trade concerned glances as his mother informed her husband "I know he's done some spooky artworks before, but nothing this horrifying". His father had to hang his head in disapproval before admitting "I have no I dead what to think is worse, the painting of children being hurt or the fact that other children are brought here to see them". "I told you that this guy was messed up. I can't believe he actually became an art teacher with stuff like this".

"Welcome to my museum, ladies an' gentleman!" cried a familiar speakeasy accent, as a man in a pink dress suit stepped forward from a nearby door, though many crowd members questioned amongst themselves about where the door came from, having not seen it there when approaching the artworks. Pinky Flamingo raised his gloved hands in the air as several members of the crown began taking pictures of him for local newspapers.

"As da lot o' ya may've noticed, my paintin's may seem a lot more distoibin' an' spooky dan usual. But I'll be sure to explain da reasonin' for dis in my newest novel I'm publishin'!" Pinky explained. As he said this, he reached into his coat and produces a large book, informing his crowd "Dis' autobiography will be in all nearby book shops an' news agencies for poichase! Expect to find 'em dere in about a week or two".

With this advertisement out of the way, he merged into the crowd and entered through the door from whence he came, before placing a 'Restricted access' warning label on the door and shutting it behind him. After witness firsthand what a creep their son's teacher truly was, Douglas's parents took the opportunity to take their leave of hell and pushed their way through the main doors. As they were leaving, Douglas couldn't help but turn to face the door that Pinky entered, only to find the door itself had suddenly vanished without a trace.

Douglas spent the rest of his day completely baffled by this terrifying anomaly.

* * *

Douglas was laying in his bed as the clock chimed the stroke of 11:00 pm, though this chime remained unheeded by anyone capable of listening to it. He had felt a sense of relief that Pinky Flamingo's popularity seemed to be diminishing amongst his family, and took comfort in the thought that others would lose respect for him. Douglas turned and smiled in his bed, delighted that his plan to expose his true personality to his family, and thus possibly have offered the chance to make plans between him, Leonard and Taylor.

Suddenly, he was stirred from his sleep by a sound outside of his room, the metallic rattle of the doorknob shaking violent before ceasing. Douglas arose from the bed in fear, debating whether to demand the culprit's name or to hide from a potential intruder, though he quickly chose the latter. He left the bed and watched the doorknob, shocked be the sound of scraping as the wooden placeholder of thee knows seemed to be disappearing.

Through the doorknob, he could see five sets of rubbery blocked pressing their way through, and the doorknob soon fell to the floor with a metallic _'Clank!'_. The door slowly creaked open to reveal a pair of silhouettes, one resembling a tall and lanky adult, the other looking more like a mall child. The child proceeded through the door and searched the bedroom, finding the bed unmistakably empty and no sigh of inhabitancy throughout the rest of the room.

"Find him" the adult whispered, before stepping away from the door and disappearing back into the hallway. The child did as they were instructed and began considering the most likely places that his target could hide. He stepped towards the bed and knelt down, checking beneath the bedframe with anticipation. He was disappointed by there being nobody beneath it, and simply stepped away from the bed as he chuckled to himself.

Within the cupboard, Douglas breathed softly as to not arouse unwanted attention, listening carefully to the movements of the mysterious intruder. His heart stopped when he words of the figure speak "I know where ya are now, kid", the accent offering an obvious answer. As he heard the footsteps come closer, he pressed he hands against the door in preparation, though it was natural for a child to consider a plan such as this to be the dumbest plan possible.

He pushed the doors open with all the strength he could muster, knocking the artist flat onto the floor before he quickly jumped over him and through the door. He ran down the hallway until he turned a sharp left into the kitchen, switching the light on and spotting a breadknife sheathed in the container. He ran for it with hand reaching for the handed, only for his hand to suddenly be swatted away by his attacker.

Douglas turned to his left and was shocked to find his former best friend standing beside him, only for the latter to grab the knife for himself and point it directly towards his target. "You're comin' wid me, kid" Brock sneered, Douglas only standing in shock of this situation. "Brock?! What are you doing here?!" he questioned, though he wasn't prepared for his friends sudden lunge as he fell to the floor, pulling the pantry door open as he collapsed.

Brock threw the knife as it spun in the air before he caught it again with ease, "Da boss want's ya ta be a part of his collection, Doug! We've already got ya two friends, so you're de only problem left". "My friends!" Douglas shot up from the ground and tackled Brock against the door, holding his wrist tightly to prevent the use of his brandished blade, "Tell me what you've done to them! NOW!"

Unbeknownst to the pair, Amanda had be aroused from her sleep in all the commotion, and had taken upon herself to examine whatever was going onn iin the kitchen. She peeked from behond the door and was shocked to find what she had stumbled across; Douglas was currently struggling against someone wielding a knife with intent to kill him. Quickly taking action, Amanda decided to risk her own safety to protect her brother and quickly shouted "Hey, you!" The distraction was successful and Brock turned his attention to the newcomer of the struggle.

Taking his chance, Douglas quickly twisted Brocks hand into a painful position, though the knife refused to leave his grip. Instead, he forced the direction of the knife towards the inside of the pantry and it struck a glass jar of sugar. Amanda took her next chance to help be running to the pantry door and kicking it closed , the door slamming against Brock's arm before it creaked open from the impact. Finally free from his attacker's clutches, Douglas stepped away to plan his next action, only to be diverted by a horrifying sight.

As the door creaked open, four twitching fingers loomed into the light as a mysterious creamy liquid leaked from within. Confirming his suspicions, Douglas focused his attention on Brock, who was holding the stump of his hand as it poured with the strange fluid. A horrified expression on his face, Brock quickly turned tail and ran for the front door, making his way outside and disappearing into the night.

Douglas turned to Amanda and demanded "Amanda, you need to wake mom and dad up, tell them to call the police!" to which Amanda nodded in understanding. Douglas ran to the door and added "And when the police get here, tell them to follow this liquid and they'll find me", pointing at the substance that extended down the road. Without the need to see Amanda confirm his instruction, Douglas leapt into the yard and ran down the street in pursuit.

"This is it, Fandango! You've got my attention, and I'm gonna make you wish you hadn't!"


	7. Chapter 7: The Magnum Opus

**Chapter Seven**

He should have expected it. He should've guessed that the trail of fluid would lead to this god-forsaken place. Douglas stood before the front door of Pinky Flamingo's art museum, even though he considered it to be less of a museum and more closely resembling the lair of a mob boss. Douglas trudged up the steps to the front door and pulled against the handle, unsurprised to find it locked from the inside.

As he turned away, he was diverted by a small glimmer emanating from the ground before him, and upon closer inspection, found a pair of pins. He thought back to Leonard's trick in Taylor's house, though he was an amateur to the specifics of lockpicking. He inserted the pair of pins onto the lock and positioned them at different angles, astounded when the locked was unhinged with a click. As he entered, he wondered how there were a convenient means of entering the building, believing that Leonard had left them for someone to find as he was taken inside.

He carefully stepped his way through the main hall, cautious of the natural silence to announce his presence by the echo of his footsteps. He found himself at a loss, unaware of where to search first within this rather large compound. He decided to search the nearest hallway to his left and soon heard the sound of a scream from ahead, indicating his correct decision. He ran to the end of the corridor and found a door labelled 'Storage #4', leaning closer to hear any clue of his friends' presence.

"It's no use, Leonard. Pinky's got us for good" he heard a feminine whisper from behind the door, this single sentence being more than enough to confirm his suspicions. As he entered the room, thanking high heaven that the door was unlocked, he found Leonard and Taylor waist deep in a strange, bubbling substance. "Douglas! Help us!" Leonard shouted, holding his arm out as far as he could, Taylor soon doing the same.

Douglas grabbed them both by their wrists and heaved them from the oozy fluid, though the substance quickly regained apportion of their lower legs. "He called this stuff slowsand! He was using it to hold us here before he made us into a painting!" Leonard explained. As soon as the rest of the pair were hoisted from the slowsand, Douglas immediately asked "What?! He turns us into paintings?!"

Leonard staggered out into the hallway and pointed to the paintings before he exclaimed "These paintings are out actual friends, but Pinky's been making fakes after he traps them". Douglas then answered "I know about the fakes, already! The fake Brock tried to kidnap me last night and I cut his arm off, and then I followed him here". "Well, that leaves the question…" Leonard stated before asking "How do we get our friends out of the paintings?"

Douglas approached an artwork of one of his classmates, their name escaping him, and examined them for any clues. Soon enough, he noticed their eyes and how the irises were coloured with a hazel shade, and remembered how they had emerald green irises from when he knew them in his class. "Wrong colouring" Douglas muttered in realisation, Leonard stepping towards him and asking "Wrong colours? What do you mean?"

"The colouring, there's always an incorrect colour in each of these paintings" Douglas explained, walking along the corridor with his hand raised towards each painting he passed by. "So… you think if they were the right colours, then they'd become real again?" Taylor questioned, Douglas simply shrugging and answering "I can't think of any other reason why the most 'perfect artist in the world' would make that mistake unless it was on purpose".

Douglas ran back into the storage room and spotted a pair of cupboards with labels 'Paint crafts'. Remaining mindful of the slowsand and carefully stepping around it, he pulled the cupboards open in search of the resources he needed. He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted sever small pots of paint and a case of paint brushes and took them as he returned to the hallway. He opened the case and pulled out a small brush before offering Taylor a pot of emerald green paint.

"Taylor, I need you to paint this" Douglas instructed, Taylor stepping away nervously and asking "Me? I'm not good enough to paint like that! What if I mess it up?!" Douglas then explained "Taylor, when we met, I was the most selfish narcissist you could ever meet, and I never thought I wasn't good enough. But you managed to prove me wrong time and again, even though _I_ never thought you'd be as good as _me_ " before placing the paint in her hands, "I want you to prove me wrong".

Taylor swallowed nervously and dipped the paint in the pot before she began applying it to the girl's eyes. Douglas watched in awe as Taylor expertly overly the emerald green and often mixed it amongst the hazel to deepen the shade. By the end, the eyes were finished and the trio waited for any resulting reaction. They were suddenly startled by the girl in the painting suddenly leaping through the portrait, the rest of her body that remained unseen materialising as she fell to the floor.

"It worked!" Taylor screamed in shock of her own accomplishment, though Leonard took the girl and leaned her against the wall as the girl twitched and whimpered from her wounds. "Alright, here's the plan!" Douglas announced "Taylor, take the paint and keep freeing people from these paintings. And Leonard, try and get some stuff to fix their injuries". As the pair nodded and ran down the corridor, Douglas shouted "Make sure to watch out for Pinky!"

However, as he said this, he heard a loud 'Snik!' from behind him, followed by a croaky chuckle, "I don't thick dere gonna need ta worry about runnin' inta me, kid!"

* * *

Douglas turned to find his nemesis standing before him, the latter holding his ungloved hand towards him. "Thank to ya, my legacy is in ruins!" the teacher sneered as he scraped the metallic tips of his fingers together, "But at least I'll 'ave da pleasure of rubbin' ya out for good!" Suddenly, Pinky charged towards him with his arm raised in preparation to strike, the Douglas was quick and shifted to the left as the series of sharp implements swooped passed.

Douglas attempted to run in the opposite direction, only to find his path blocked by a pair of fake classmates, one armed with a pallet knife and the other armed with a claycutting wire. Before he would react, Douglas felt the wire around his neck as he was dragged to the floor and slowly being suffocated. Pinky Flamingo stood above him with his switchbladed index finger pointed down towards him, "I've been itchin' ta do dis ever since I met ya!"

"THIS IS THE POLICE! PASCAL FANDANGO, EXIT THE PREMISIS OR WE SHALL ENTER BY FORCE!"

Pinky turned to the opposite end of the hallway in shock, his twisted smile becoming a disproportional frown, "Da kid's called da pigs on us, boys!" Douglas took his opportunity to turn and grab his strangler by the legs, sending him falling to the floor and freeing his neck from the wire. He grabbed the wire before running down the hallway, smiling to himself as he heard the police break through the front door.

"Well, dere's more dan one way to save da day! Heheheheehahah!" Pinky Flamingo cackled as he reached into his coat and produced a Thompson from the identically small coat pocket. Douglas ran to the main hall and watched as two police officers approached him, "Are you Douglas Bramston?" they asked. Douglas replied "That's right! I told my parents to call you and bring you here!" as several more officers entered the building.

"Listen, two of my friends are here and they're helping the kids that Pinky kidnapped!" Douglas informed, though the officers remained baffled by this. "Kidnapping? We are here to arrest him for breaking and entering and assault!" the cops insisted, though Douglas shook his head and informed "This may sound crazy, but Pinky actually has fake children posing as the student's in his art class. The real ones are here in this building, and two of my friends are helping them out now".

The police didn't know what to make of this, though Douglas's explanations were confirmed as Taylor approached from a hallway. Behind her was a large line of injured and terrified children, and the pair of officers immediately took action as one grabbed his radio, shouting "Chief, we have wounded hostages within the complex. Fandango's been kidnapping! Order, chief?" As the cop spoke on the radio, the other leant down to Douglas and asked "What else do you know about this?"

Suddenly, the air was pierced by the sound of a machine gun's rapid fire, sending every cop and hostage behind cover. "Chief, suspect is armed and hostile! Permission to return fire?!" The cop shouted into the radio. Douglas called to his partner and stated "There are fake kids in the building as well! You can identify them by their lack of injuries!" and the cop nodded in understanding. However, he was surprised to hear Douglas say "Remember, when I said they weren't real kid, I meant it. So don't be afraid to shot them!"

Douglas and the pair of policemen peaked from behind the wall, devastated to find that Pinky Flamingo was approaching from the hallway as his gun continued to fire without being reloaded. "I don't get it, he should have run out by now!" the cop exclaimed, though Douglas informed "This guy isn't just a creep, he is anomalous too. He actually can make things happen that don't make sense in the real world. He created the fake kids out of some kind of paint material". "Please tell me your joking!" the officer begged, only for Douglas to answer "I wish I was".

"Permission granted men! Return fire!" The other officer shouted, and the officers wasted no time in firing back towards the psychotic kidnapper, one bullet after the other passing through him and causing him to stagger backwards and collapse. From behind him, a pair of children fired upon them with a pair of firearms, sending the police back behind their covers. "Additional hostiles, sir. Returning fire!" the radio officer informed the chief and commanded his men.

As the pair of fake children fell in the mass shower of gunfire, Pinky Flamingo arose from the ground and ran down the hallway. "What! He's still alive?! I thought we creamed him!" the officer shouted as he reloaded his handgun. The gun show ending for the moment, the armed officers entered the hallway to examine the bodies, the hostages quickly being taken in ambulances to the nearest hospital for treatment.

"We've got the suspect on the run! Officers, pursue with caution!" the lead officer commanded, the police proceeding into the hallway in search of Fandango. "I dunno what kind of mumbo jumbo this guy is cooking up" the officer admitted as he examined the bodies of the two fake children, "But I'll make sure he can't get his hands on any more kids to torture". Douglas stepped backwards only to hear "Not so fast, kid!" from behind him.

He turned to see Pinky Flamingo standing within the centre of the main hall, his switchblade finger held against Leonard's throat for reassurance of safety.

* * *

"How did you get here?!" Douglas questioned, only to find an open door behind him that was never there. "I's got ya friend, kid! None of ya mess wid me or he gets it!" He shouted towards the police. The police, in turn, trained their guns on him but none fired in fear of endangering the hostage's life. "Give it up, Fandango! You've got nowhere to run now!" the officer shouted "Now release the hostage and surrender!"

"You's really not been payin' attention, has ya, Porky?! As soon as I step back into da door behind me, I's could be anywhere in da world!" Pinky informed the police as he carefully backed towards the door with Leonard in tow. "And besides, You's can't really hurt me! I's only got one ding ta fear, but one of ya will ever find out what it is!" he added before cackling to himself.

As he said this, Douglas watched as Leonard put his hand in his pocket without Pinky noticing, pulling out a small glass vial filled with an unknown clear liquid. Suddenly, he clutched the glass vial's lid and removed it, before swiftly pouring the substance on Pinky's hand. The cops and Douglas alike was awed as Pinky Flamingo screamed in pain and released Leonard from his grasp, the lot of them watching as Pinky's hand melted away into a creamy liquid.

"Pinky Flamingo!"

All attention, including Pinky's, was directed towards Taylor, who was standing towards the far end of the building. Pinky's eyes widened as he saw a specific portrait she held in front of her, a self-portrait of Pinky Flamingo himself, and an entire container of clear liquid in her hand. "How did ya know!?" Pinky shouted "How did ya know dat my own paintin' was da key?!" Taylor scowled at him with encompassing hatred, "Because you just told me now!"

Taylor then opened the jar and dumped the entirety of the jar's contents upon the portrait, the solid paint liquefying and streaming off of the canvas into a massy pile of multi-coloured ooze. Before he could reacting, Pinky Flamingo suddenly loss all structure in his body as his entire mass collapsed into a pool of ooze, spreading across the ground and bubbling violently like molten metal. Finally, the ordeal of Pinky Flamingo's terror had been ended.

Taylor drooped the canvas and ran to Douglas, wrapping herself in his arms in a fit of fear and excitement. "What was that stuff!?" Douglas asked her as they embraced, before Taylor pushed away and answered "Thinner". Leonard then joined them and added "Pinky flamingo was made out of paint, and so were his fake children. It was mostly Taylor's idea". "No it wasn't, it was yours!" Taylor smiled lovingly toward Leonard for his generous compliment.

Suddenly, several newcomer's burst in through the front door, including Douglas's parent and sister. "Douglas, what happened here?!" His mother screamed, Douglas deciding how to explain this series of nonsensical and anomalous events. "Pinky Flamingo was kidnapping kids… and he tried to kidnap me as well. But I followed him and here and… Me, Taylor and Leonard rescued the hostages". "Oh my lord, you are so brave! But don't ever do that again!" she answered.

"And Pinky Flamingo… where is he?!" his father asked curiously. Before he could answer, the police officers, having heard Douglas's story, stated "He escaped, but police are currently searching the building for him. We'll get him eventually". Soon, the family's and police decided to leave the accursed place and return home with their children, the lead officer approaching his partner and asking "How the hell are we gonna do the paperwork on this one?"

During the following day, news channels explained the events that occurred in the museum. They never mentioned the anomalous properties that Pinky had, nor the existence of the fake children. Parent would search the bedrooms of their kids and find that the fake children had completely disappeared without a trace. The police reported that each child was kidnapped during the night within different hours. While the media and newspapers were sceptical of this, they could not offer any other explanation for this.

Meanwhile, Douglas was relieved that the entire nightmare was over, though he was disappointed that his life would return to the way it was before Pinky Flamingo. Melissa West was among the hostages Pinky had captured, and she was intending to return to being an art teacher when she had recuperated. Leonard and Taylor were highly regarded by many forms of media and even were considered heroes by the residence of Olympia.

However, on Wednesday the following week, Douglas decided to visit Taylor in her home. He approached the door and rang the doorbell, smiling as he heard a pair of footsteps approach him. The door opened to reveal Taylor sporting a curious expression, before she suddenly shouted "Hey, Douglas! It's so good to see you!" before suddenly embracing him. Douglas was reminded of her diagnosed mood swing from this reaction, though was pleased that it was a more positive mood that greeted him.

Douglas spent several minutes in her home and the pair had begun practicing painting, Taylor deciding to help Douglas in his slim hopes of achieving a high mark in his art class. As Douglas painted, however, he spotted a familiar sight to the left of him and he stopped to see it. Pinky's ruined portrait sat beside the television, though Taylor noticed this and said "Oh! That's a souvenir from the Museum. The police said I could keep it".

Several more minutes passed and Taylor stated "I have to go get something to drink. I'll be back" before leaving the living room. Taking his opportunity, Douglas approached the painting and examined the frame, before turning the painting over to find any form of signature or identification. Douglas was instead petrified to find the signature he found instead of the one he expected.

' _Pinky Flamingo – By Taylor Ingram'._


End file.
